(The second part was not without a generous contribution by [@MrDidact] . Thanks buddy!)

"Good day," muttered Arak, pushing slowly through another pile of captives. His legs still trembled from the atrophy he suffered in the cells of the pirates, and his head throbbed dully, a continuous reminder of the low blood in his head. In his own little world, he forgot where he was, and stumbled on a foot that came out of nowhere. He blundered into a pirate with shackled arms, who promptly shoved him away with an elbow, growling curses. "Apologies," Arak mumbled, and leaned on his spear with a sigh. The chaos was over, and he was dead tired. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt overtaxed.

A hand snaked out of the crowd and snatched him by his overgrown hair. Arak felt his head get rudely pulled back, and a high-pitched voice began whispering in his ear.

"And where have you been these last days?" came the undeniable voice of an angry William.

"A good day to you as well, Lord Bol-"

"Don't give me that Lord Bolton nonsense. What were you doing? Has soldier life taught you nothing? Perhaps getting curious and wandering is all well and good in the Stark Butterfly-Chasing Guild, but not with me."

"You are not as yet my commanding officer, brother," Arak groaned, feeling the headache flare up with a vengeance in his head. He let his free hand clutch his face, anything to block out the painful thumping. William continued with his whole tirade, Arak catching none of it but the end.

" . . . And from now on, you will not leave my sight. If I have a task, you'd better believe it's yours as well. Do you understand me?"

"As I said, you're no-"

"Do . . . you . . . understand?"

"As you command," sighed Arak. He turned, lazily, nearly tripping over his feet. He watched through blurred eyes his half-brother harassing a field medic and sighed again. Most people would be happy that their elder siblings are so worried about their safety.
__________________________
Once again, Cathay found herself at a bit of a dilemma. She has been at court for but less than a year, and during most of that time, the Mistress of Whispers chose to make herself incredibly scarce to her and just about everyone. Meaning, of course, Cathay couldn't recognize her writing. She isn't stupid enough to blindly accept that it came from the Mistress' hand, and she most certainly isn't trusting enough not to assume it isn't a ploy from one of her enemies. To attend this secret meeting would be a high gamble, one she would never take without at least a bit of insurance.

The idea came to her when the time of meeting began drawing very close. She contacted one of her many ears within the serving staff in the Red Keep. The plan was simple. First, the serving girl would go down there, under the guise that she was cleaning the grounds, while looking around for traces of Lady Arya, or worse, the Celtigars. Next, Cathay would double check, under one of her disguises. Just a longtime courtier of a landless house, drunk out of her mind. If everything checks out, then the meeting goes as planned. With a couple of stags changing hands, the plan was set.

Cathay's spy went down to the dungeons, where the skulls of the Targaryen dragons were once held before being placed once more in the throne room, and she found nothing. Absolutely no trace of anyone watching. Though of course if Cathay really was meeting with Arya, there wouldn't have been. But on the surface, it seemed as if there'd be no traps waiting for Cathay. 

When she heard the word, Cathay donned her disguise. The next person to come down the steps was a dirty-blonde woman, appearing somewhere in her late thirties. She stumbled down the steps, occasionally stopping to hiccup. Cathay's eyes betrayed her outward demonstrations. They zipped about in her sockets, absorbing the entire room back to front and back again. With each confirmation that the chambers looked empty, her paranoia mounted exponentially. Surely it was a plot! She was going to be captured, most definitely! The steps weren't far, but for how long could she outrun all the guards and mercenaries surely hiding behind the innumerable pillars?

A voice rang out among the pillars, in the darkness, a woman's voice, though she could not discern from where it came; at times seeming to come from right before Cathay or from all around, "You can abandon the disguise, Lady Cathay. There is no one else in here besides you and myself. And you have nothing to fear from me." 

Something from the shadows seemed to coalesce into solid form and Lady Arya Stark, the Mistress of Whispers appeared before Cathay in a black robe, "Pleased to finally make your acquantince, my lady." 

"You as well, my lady," Cathay responded, removing the features of her disguise. People spoke in whispers of the mysterious Arya, who in a single stroke performed a great many political assassinations that turned the tide of the Targaryen Invasion. However, if Cathay was honest with herself, the woman across from her didn't look it. She was exceedingly small and spindly, and completely unkempt. Not what most would think of. "Have you read the Memoirs In the Web, my lady?" Cathay asked, trying to put off the inevitable conversation.

Arya kept most of her face hidden behind her hood, and in the darkness it was hard to see much of anything, but perhaps a small smile touched her lips, "Lord Varys' secret accounting of the reign of the Mad King, King Robert, King Joffrey, King Tommen, and Queen Daenerys as well as his own activities as Master of Whispers? Indeed, I have the original. And very few have even laid eyes on it. Lord Tyrion has read a copy. But not even my brother the King has. How did you chance upon it?" 

"I think you'll understand if I choose not to refer to the scribes under my employ by name," Cathay said. She has clashed with the royal intelligence network in the past. They likely know nothing about the original source of their occasional torment, but it was only a matter of time. Business was sounding better by the second. "The bastard baby," she prompted. "You wanted to speak about . . . it?"

Arya reclined her head in answer, "Yes. This child could change a great deal, depending on the circumstances. A prince or princess always has an effect, whether they are trueborn or bastard. My brother proved that. Tell me what you found out. You must have discovered something by now." 

"Something, yes," Cathay said. "I, under guise, met with the Captain Ardrian, house of Celtigar. He implied none-too-subtly that the true father of the child has no link with the Targaryen house. Unfortunately, I could not goad him any further. If I recall his exact words were: 'all Jonquil needed was a prince', and I'm hoping you could make better sense of it than I can."

Arya was silent for several moments before saying, "Ardrian is Jonquil's brother. He is likely to know quite a bit of who the father may be. It seems this was not some affair of passion, it was a concentrated ploy. But for what purpose? And those words... they certainly cast the parentage into doubt. But he said, she needed a prince. There are several. Not just Aemon. Viserys, Jahaerys. Rhaegar. Aegon Targaryen. His bastard sons. Viserys' and Daenyra's sons are too young yet. But It seems to me that another dragon may be the father. And Viserys has many bastards already, one more wouldn't have such an effect. The same for Aegon. Rhaegar, too shy for such a thing. But now I believe the father is someone of dragon blood, and someone manipulated it to be so. Either House Celtigar as a whole or members of it, perhaps working in concert with the Faith. And other parties besides, mayhaps. Troubling, very troubling." Arya seemed lost in thought for a moment. 

"And I believe that until the child is born, anyone can pay a field worker a stag or two to put a bastard in a lady, but arguing philosophy won't get us far," Cathay said. "Point is, as the Memoirs kindly put it, 'it is because people love their masters that the verdict is surest. Truth plays only a second hand to authority'. The Celtigars want to start trouble, no doubt about that. We can deny it all, like in the Tyrionic Trials. People will listen more to the king than dissenters roosting near Dragonstone."

"Indeed, someone in House Celtigar is plotting something. Against us? Possibly. For their benefit? Certainly. Lord Ardrian has no answered any missives, he's preparing the Claw Isle Fleet for battle. But Ardrian the Elder may know something of this as well. We will have to send an Inquisitor to the isle. Not that much will come of it. But they wouldn't have gotten these ideas on their own. Someone is in league with them. And we can't be sure who in the House is in on it. For all we know, there are several different ploys at work here." 

Arya paused, "The throne has offered no official word yet. It has been determined that we shall wait until the babe is born and Aemon returns before we can offer any definitive judgements. For now, all that we have acknowledged is that Jonquil Celtigar is mothering a bastard. If the babe comes out dark or gold of hair, then the question is settled. But if they are silver haired or white haired... then it becomes much murkier. Jonquil has already been dismissed from the Septas, however." 

A moment passed, "Hmm, perhaps someone was counting on it. But if the child is truly one of the King's kin, he has decided they will be acknowledged and brought up in comfort, like all the others. That is why we must wait to determine the parentage. But we still need to investigate who is doing this." 

"Do you have any theories on what is happening here? You're obviously much more than a mere lordling's daughter." 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cathay stammered. Bad move. She quickly recovered, and composed herself. It wouldn't do to have someone like Arya going to Starks, or worse yet, the king himself, and blab all of her plans to them. She can't let her Bolton ancestry get out before the time is right, or her chance at power is lost. "What I meant to say was that we cannot wait until the babe is born to make a decision. The longer we let it lie, the more the smallfolk talk, and suddenly the king no longer has any authority over his people. I cannot speak for the king, but the best action would be to take a stance, preferably within the fortnight."

Arya made no overt reaction and finally said, "Your words will be considered. But my brother has never been one to think too highly of gossip and opinion. Neither is my sister in law. But if you want us to take a stance, it would be helpful to get to the bottom of this. You have another assignment. I want you to talk to Ser Gaemon Celtigar, he's a captain in the royal fleet. And he's Lord Ardrian's nephew. He may be more pliable than Captain Ardrian. Do you think you can do this?" 

"As you task, my lady," Cathay said. She dropped into a quick curtsy and ascended the stairs, berating herself. Obviously, her disguise was on some level off. If the Mistress of Whispers could see through it, then it obviously wasn't good enough.

Arya watched Cathay leave the dungeon and she stared after the young woman, until long after she was gone. She was hiding something. Arya did not think she was involved in this plot. But Cathay Whitehoof was trying to keep Arya from finding out something about her. And she was going to find out what. Arya melted away back into the shadows, to continue her work.